


Decorated Emergency

by northerndownpourr



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northerndownpourr/pseuds/northerndownpourr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and Brendon are put together as roommates- in a mental hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. IV

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is really short... the other ones will not be.

I watched the ceiling, you could hear the patients on the floor above walk around, and the staff at night. There was an empty bed but it hadn’t been filled in the 98 hours I’ve been there. Startled by a door opening, I looked at the door to see the nurse holding clothes and a tall man, about my age, maybe 20, with gauze on his wrists. He had fringed brown-black hair, and big brown eyes, he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

“Ryan, this is your roommate Brendon.” The nurse set down his stuff and Brendon went to sit down on the bed across from me. The nurse shut the door.


	2. Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the hospital in here is a real hospital... the names of staff have certainly been changed but the descriptions of the unit and the rules and everything are based on a real hospital I have been to. I am changing the name of the hospital for my own privacy. 
> 
> Also this actually a real chapter

“Hey” I said, staring him down. He looked lost, but then again aren’t we all lost here? 

“Hey, what’s it like here?” Brendon’s voice was almost melodic, he probably could sing. 

“It’s really not that bad, minus the no phone. I mean sometimes fights break out, but normally we just do groups and sit there. I write. Songs, I’m thinking of starting a band. We have music group, which is pretty cool. So is art group. Most of the staff are nice. I’ve been here three times. Tried to kill myself again. But what else is new.” I spoke with a frank honesty that I didn’t expect to speak with to a stranger. But something about him made me feel comfortable, he looked like he needed honesty, and a friend. 

“I’ve never been here, I also tried to kill myself, but you can see that from my bandaged wrists. I called 911 on myself and really wish I didn’t.” Brendon sat down on the bed. It was about 5:00 am, and I hadn’t slept at all and wakeup was at six. 

“Well, I’ll watch out for you. You’re too skinny to kick anyone’s ass.” I said to him. I felt like something had put us here. 

“So are you, to be honest.” Now he was speaking with frank honesty.

“Do I have time to sleep, wait, I don’t sleep.” Brendon kinda half chuckled with a smile on his face. He continued, “I’m bipolar- I legitimately haven't slept in 4 days. Like for real.” He smiled again, and suddenly I realized how attractive he really was. Something about those eyes, something in those eyes, I thought.

“I haven’t slept in two days, as I too am bipolar, I just lay here and think of what I’m going to do when I get out. I think I’m going to smoke a whole pack of cigarettes to make up for lost time, and then take photos of airplanes with my film camera and then go back to my apartment and watch as many episodes of Law and Order as I want. You’re welcome to join me, when you get out.” I sat up and turned the lights on. 

I looked at the gauze on each wrist, and tried to imagine how painful the second wrist must be with your first wrist already bleeding and sliced. Did he have stitches, I don’t know. Maybe someday I will know.

I watched as he walked out of the unit and stared at the wall, it was painted with fish on it- probably a long time ago. I never could make out the signature on the bottom of the wall by the door that I never went out of. 

On the unit were rubber chairs, because apparently we can’t be trusted with real couches. There were a few tables and the day staff had come out of the office and onto the unit.

“Are you Brendon?” The one staff Shayla asked. She was nice, I watched him answer.

“Yeah...yeah I am.” His voice was nervous, and he tensed up when she asked. Now Shayla was one of the nice staff, and she didn’t mean to make him nervous I could tell.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Brendon, my name is Shayla.” She spoke, her voice was sing songy. 

Brendon walked over and sat down next to me one of the rubber chairs.

“I want to go home, Ryan.” He was about to cry.

“We all do and it's gonna be ok.” I patted him on the shoulder as he started to cry.


	3. Coke

“All of you are here for different reasons but one thing I know is you are all here to get help.” Shayla was leading group on addiction for the morning group. This was one group that I wasn’t ever here for, as it is relatively new, and one I probably needed. 

“How many of you have ever been told you have a substance problem, or any addictive thing really? Only raise your hand if you’re comfortable and only share what it is if you are comfortable doing so.” 

I saw Brendon’s hand go up. I then put mine up. 

“Brendon, do you feel comfortable sharing? Ryan if you do, you will share next.” She asked.

“Yeah, alcohol and cocaine. My whole family cut me off because of it.” Brendon’s voice was much stronger than I expected it to be. 

“Ryan, do you want to share?” Shayla asked.

“Cocaine.” I said the simple word, but I had never before admitted I had a problem. 

A few other people shared, and then we talked about how admitting we have a problem is the first step to recovery. I guess I did that, but I really wasn’t sure I wanted to recover. But it is a story for another time.

I walked over to where Brendon was sitting with a styrofoam cup of water. 

“I never would've guessed.” 

“Guessed what?” He took a sip of his water, actually quite gracefully.

“That you had the same problem as I did.”

“What problem is that?” Brendon seemed to not get the question.

“Coke. That problem.” I sat down next to him, close, but not close enough that the staff would notice.

“Yeah, I do have a coke problem, along with a lot of other problems.” Brendon was so casual about it. 

“I do too. You know I’m really glad I met you.” I tapped him on the leg.


	4. Scratch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains slight mentions of self harm

It was dinner time and I sat down next to brendon at a little round table. He had not grabbed very much on his plate and was picking at some rice. 

“Brendon you need to eat more.” I said to him, he was really skinny. 

“The food is fucking disgusting, I’m not eating that shit.” He said, and a staff told him to watch his language.

“Yeah it actually is but they ain’t giving you anything else so you might as well get used to it.” I hated being so short with him, but it was the truth. 

“I guess you’re right, my wrists need rebandaged. I’m taking the bandages off once we get back to the unit. It hurts like a bitch.” He got a stern look from one of the staff, Kerry. I had always kinda had a crush on Kerry, he was cute and nice. But that is like mega inappropriate. 

Brendon really didn’t eat anything and I had one awful chicken breast, it tasted like plastic. Now we had visiting, not that I got any visitors, and time to do whatever if we didn’t have visitors. I went back to our room with the plastic beds and shitty mattresses made of foam, and the clothes that I had brought. 

I sat down on the bed, and watched Brendon come in with tears in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, come here.” Brendon sat down on my bed and I closed my door. 

“I can’t be here, I can’t take it. One of the other guys just started insulting me and saying I was a terrible person, and all this horrid shit and I just don’t want to be here.” He was sobbing into his hands and kept choking down the sobs and then he started scratching at his arm- hard. 

“Brendon, you need help. And please don’t try to cut yourself in here. Please, please.” He kept scratching until it bled, when I finally pulled his hand off his arm. 

“God damn it Brendon, I care too much about you and I barely know you to let you do this.” I suddenly leaned in and kissed him. He quickly kissed back. It maybe lasted five seconds, but I just… I had to.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” I immediately wanted to take it back, to go back, but I couldn’t, he was going to hate me or worse, tell staff. 

“I’m glad you did, to be honest. Why do you think I kissed back?”


	5. Chapstick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one

I was running my fingers through his hair, and my mouth was tied up in his, and my arms were around him. At least in my head. Ever since I kissed him, I couldn’t get his lips, soft and full, and his eyes, beautiful brown saucers, out of my mind. We had exchanged information and were going to hook up (hopefully literally,) after we both got out. But I wanted him, I wanted him more than anything. 

The staff had just come in for their fifteen minute checks, and Brendon just walked in. He walked up to me and started kissing me, running his tongue in my lips, and his hand through my hair. He pulled away after about five minutes. 

“I can’t wait to get out of here and do that all day.” He smiled and laughed and I thought I might die. He was killing me. He quickly walked to his bed when we heard footsteps.

“I want you bad, Brendon. I want you more than anything. But if they catch us we’re dead.” I said to him, he was putting on chapstick and I wished I was the tube. 

“I know. I just signed the paper to sign myself out. You should too.” I left and went to sign the paper.


	6. Out

Brendon had signed the papers, and so had I. We were leaving, but neither of us really got any help. I only AMA’d (against medical advice) because he did. I couldn’t stay here without him. We were leaving at eight am tomorrow. He had packed his stuff in the same duffle he came in, and we were going to bed.

“Ryan, do you want to go get actual food after we leave. Let’s call it a date.” Brendon said to me as we laid in bed. 

“There’s nothing I would love better. Seriously, nothing.” I said back to him. I stared at his face in the pale moonlight from the window whose curtain had fallen down, He was stunning, sharp jawline, beautiful eyes. I just stared as his eyelids fluttered and he fell asleep. He breathed lightly, I watched until I fell asleep.

The next morning they let us go. We walked out the doors, we were handed our cellphones and wallets back, and we walked out the door. 

“Do you want to go back to my place, and maybe have coffee, or something?” I asked him, grabbing his hand. 

“Yeah, that would be really nice.” He started to blush and it was so cute I kinda wanted to die or melt. His hair hung kinda fringy in his face, and he had the pinkest bright cheeks, his eyes were full and a deep shade of brown, and his lips were full and very kissable looking.

We got back to my place in my car, and walked in the door. My apartment was small, and messy, I had a small couch and a bookshelf, and a TV. I also had a bedroom in the back, and a bathroom off to the side. 

Brendon dropped his stuff and grabbed me by the shoulders. I instantly dropped my stuff. He kissed me, hard and fast, and started running his hand up my shirt.

“Show me where the bedroom is, Ry.” He whispered it in my ear, in the sexiest voice I could imagine. I immediately was incredibly turned on, and showed him where the bedroom was. The bed didn’t even have sheets.

He pushed me onto the bed, and unzipped my pants, pulling them off. He started to suck and I was screaming and moaning. When I finished, I got down on my knees and returned the favor. 

“Brendon, Jesus. That was so good.” I was laying in the bed. He laid next to me. 

“It’s good to be out.” I breathed out between hot and heavy breaths.


	7. French Fries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains mentions of drugs- short chapter, the next one will be longer.

There was something to be said for him. I don’t know what it was, what made me have a strong, impossible to break bond. The problem was I hadn’t heard from him in about three days, so I was going over to his house with dinner. 

I knocked on the door and heard no answer for a while, he lived in a shitty apartment complex in apartment 27A, eventually I heard a distorted version of his voice shout “Who is it?” 

“It’s Ryan, I hadn’t heard from you in a while. Can I come in?” I asked him, I had brought over Wendy’s because I was too lazy to make dinner.

“Yeah come in.” His voice sounded wavy, yet elated. 

The apartment was a wreck. There were books piled up in the corner, the couch was missing a cushion, and there were probably two empty vodka bottles, and a decent amount of coke on the table.

“Brendon! What. The. Fuck? Have you been high for three days?” I asked him, I was angry, but I also wanted to join him. 

“Yep. You want some it’s on the counter.” I couldn’t resist, I didn’t even want to get rid of my problem, I didn’t even care as I snorted the coke up and wiped my nose. I instantly felt that rush I had missed so bad in the hospital.

“You bring food?” Brendon started nibbling on fries, and then throwing them up into his mouth. He looked like a little kid.

I sat down and ate. I then proceeded to start playing Brendon’s guitar and sing.

“Holy fuck man, you… you... “ He collapsed.


	8. House

I really wasn’t sure what to do. He was breathing, that was good. Very good. Maybe he would come to. About five minutes later he came to. 

“Am I dead, and if I am why are you here?” Brendon looked very out of it. 

“No, you are not dead. Did you want to be dead?” I sat down on the floor and steadied my hands on his shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah I did. That’s why I drank so much, and snorted so much coke. I was going down swinging.” He was so out of it. I was devastated, I don’t know how he could do this. He was so happy, he seemed ok. Maybe I meant less to him than he meant to me, maybe I was a pin on a map to him and he was my exit sign for something better, I don’t know. 

“Let’s take you to lay down, I’ll stay with you. You need to sober up.” I led him into the bedroom, which was a mess. I found a blanket and some pillows and tucked him in. 

“Stay with me Ryan, please don’t leave.” I didn’t have pajamas so I stripped down to my boxers and laid in the bed, that didn’t even have sheets, and grabbed on to him. 

“Go to sleep Brendon, you’re gonna be so fucked up in the morning.” I squeezed his skinny body, into mine with one hand and stroked his hair until he fell asleep. 

THE NEXT MORNING:

 

Brendon woke me up, “Did you come over to take care of me?” HIs voice was sweet. 

“Yeah, you were off you ass and said you were trying to kill yourself. You passed out.” I said to him. I stepped out of bed, and then I heard him say. “Damn! come back here.” 

“You like this. Well you don’t get it till you totally sober up, and by the way I’m flushing your coke.” I started to put my clothes on and tried to decide what to do with him.

“Pack a bag, we’re going to my house, where I can take care of my baby.” I laughed.


	9. Car Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one- promise the next one will be longer

After calling a cab, we arrived at my shitty apartment. Brendon had started to sober up. And was actually becoming coherent. I carried in his bag for him and he plopped down on the couch, I looked at him and he looked so small, so fragile, so beautiful. The way the window light hit his jawline was strikingly beautiful, his eyes full and fragile. 

“Ryan, come tell me a story.” He said to me, I walked over to where the window light hit his face and sat down next to the couch.

“Ok, well when I was in 12th grade I had a car accident. I fell asleep at the wheel and hit a car head on. Well the people in the other car came out unscathed. But I was hurt, bad. They airflighted me to the trauma hospital. I had a broken femur, shin, and foot on my left leg, I had a fractured right collarbone and I couldn’t get out of the hospital bed for a month. Everyone came out of the woodwork to show their “support,” and I’m like you never cared about me before so why do you care now? Of course when you get out things returned to normal and everyone hated me. But I feel like I hit you head on. Minus the injuries.” I finished saying.  
“I love you, Ryan Ross. I love you so much.” He then fell asleep and I carried him to the bed.


	10. Hallelujah

Brendon slept all of that day, and all of that night, I climbed into the bed next to him about 10:00 pm that night, and slept next to him, I grabbed his wrists which didn’t have gauze on them anymore. They were starting to scar, and had raised bumps where the knife had slit in at his own desire. The scars would be visible for a long time.

“Ryan, I think I’m actually sober.” He woke me up around 7:00 the next morning. 

“That’s good Brendon. That’s really good.” I said to him half asleep.

“I know you were grabbing my wrists, why’d you do that?” He asked me, sitting up in his boxers. 

“Cause I wanted you to know that I love you, and never want you to do that again.” I said to him, my voice sweet with sleep and hoarse with the lack of water, opposites yet together at the same time. 

“Good...because I love you too. You were there for me when no one else was. You were there when everyone else had gone and packed up and left, you came into my life like a wave sweeping the shore and taking everything I had known in it’s wake and pulling me out to some wonderful sea.” He spoke with such frankness, and endearment I couldn’t help but try to rack my brain for something back.

“Something, I don’t know what because I don’t believe in God, put you in that room. Put me in your apartment when you passed out. You know you don’t want to die. I want you to sing for me. You said you could sing.” I sat on the edge of the bed as he started singing Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard, it was stunning, it was, I can’t even imagine. His voice hit all the notes and had this rich quality to it. I can’t place it, but I can’t begin to say how beautiful it was.”

“Brendon...that was stunning, like magnificent, we should start a band.” I almost had tears in my eyes, frankly, it was that beautiful. 

“Yeah, we should. You know what, thank you. Just thank you.” Brendon got dressed out of the clothes in his bag. 

I put on clothes from my closet, black skinny jeans and a shirt with vertical strips, a button down. 

We were sitting on the balcony of the shitty apartment both smoking a cigarette. It was about two in the afternoon. 

“I want you Ryan.” He put his cigarette out on the ashtray, that rested on the small glass table on the porch that looked like it was about to fall through. 

“You do?” I put out the cigarette on the ashtray after taking one last drag.

“Come inside with me.” He pulled me up out of the chair. 

He held my hand and spun me around before pushing me down to the ground. His lips started with my mouth working his way down, in a rough hard way, and he finally worked around down there, finishing me off while I moaned his name.


	11. Sometimes we will die, sometimes we fly away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter
> 
> DEATH AND SUICIDE TW

Ryan was sitting on the couch watching TV. He looked so depressed. He had been sitting here doing nothing for about 3 weeks. I meanwhile was heading to the bathroom, silently. I had a piece of paper in my hands. Everything was blurry and dizzy and I climbed into tub which had been running. 

The sleeping pills were starting to make everything go to black, and I swigged the vodka and taped the note to the mirror.

“Ryan, in the short time I have known you have awoken something in me. You are my moon, and wherever I go you shall not be forgotten. I hope to meet you in a tunnel of light or something someday, I’ve never believed in much of an afterlife though. I want you to know I love you, but love isn’t enough to keep someone alive. They have to want it. You’re a beautiful soul and I hope you stay as such.---All My Love, Brendon.”

I slipped under the water.

RYAN’S POV

Water was flooding the floor, and Brendon was no where to be found. I went to the bathroom and it was locked. He had killed himself, I knew it. I knew he had. I started to freak out and busted down the door with my shoulder.

The tile floor was covered in water, and Brendon was blue, slipped under the water. I pulled out my phone and called 911. I lifted him out of the tub, he was cold, cold and blue. He was dead, I kept trying to find a pulse. 

The paramedics busted in and started doing chest compressions. I stood there crying, and for the first time praying. They worked on him for 10 minutes.

Time of Death: 10:23 PM  
Brendon was dead. And I had died with him. All I had were his notes and his words. I would never again feel his scars, or his chest, or kiss his soft lips which had turned blue with the stains of death. He was wearing the same blink-182 shirt I met him in, and the boxers I first saw him undress in. But it wasn’t him he was gone. 

Brendon was made to look pretty again. I had gone over to his apartment and gotten his things. Pictures, diaries, songs that would never again be songs. I took all the papers in a leather briefcase before what little family he had came. I took some clothes. And I took myself. I picked up the pieces from what happened when he came into my life.

“Brendon was like a gust of wind. From the first time I saw him, I knew something was there. He was a candle that was lit, and burning brightly in a row of blackness. He caught me when I was falling, and I tried to catch him. But he couldn’t be caught. He was too good for this world. He was too beautiful, he was too fragile, yet so strong. And I will miss him everyday.” I left the podium and leaned over the casket and for the second time in my life, I prayed. I prayed he was somewhere, I prayed he could hear what I just said I prayed he was safe.

“I’m gonna sing a song that we wrote, it’s called Northern Downpour. I want you to raise your lighters if you have one.” I started to sing, I could barely make it through the song.

When they lowered him into the ground we sang Sinatra. And I went back to an empty apartment, and read his words on paper over and over again, and wished I could of noticed the water sooner.


End file.
